This was the message on my answering machine when I got back to New York. At this point, it was clear that things had been planned long before and without my knowledge. I still have the answering machine, mainly to save the loving messages from my dad. This is the last message recorded.
At first, I thought it was a cruel thing to do, but maybe he was just blowing steam. But a few weeks later was my 50th birthday. I mean c’mon. Stress? I had survived near death, I had been struggling at my work to hang in long enough to get my 30 years. My birthday came and went and all I got from the ‘family’ was silence. Not a phone call or card. Nothing. THAT’s when I knew this was ‘real’. Mark Cottrill ‘grieving’ the night before his father’s funeral, his truck was already packed full.
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